


Welcome to the Underground!

by MrE42



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Banter, Eventual Romance, Fantasy, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27814297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42
Summary: Abigail Greenfield was a simple farmer on the surface but everything changed when she finds herself in the Underground, a sprawling hidden society just under the surface. Now she has to find a way out while trying to survive this new, strange place.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Welcome to the Underground!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, I'm Mr.E! I'm a writer famous for my star vs series over on fanfiction.net and tumblr with some odd fandom oneshots here and there and this is my own original work. This is the first chapter from my tumblr but I decided to post it here as well! I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think. stay safe, follow the proper safety guidelines and have good week!

We love you Abi. Don’t ever forget it.

“Mom?”

Abigail winced uncomfortably as the muscles in her body painfully ached.

“Why does everything pain? Why so much pain?” Abigail croaked, resisting the urge to move any further than she had to.

Abigail opened her eyes but instead of the blazing sun high above the mossy, wetlands of the Loss Swamp like she was expecting, it was a swirling darkness and towering smooth stony walls on every side.

A single ray of sunshine cut through the dark but small, leafy movement scurried to cover it, swarming the glimmer of light until it was completely engulfed in shadows once more.

“Okay that explains the cold air during summer.” Abigail whispered to herself, closing her gray eyes in preparation “One second then up you go Abi. One.”

No motion.

“I said one Abi” She scolded herself.

She bit her lip, ignoring the dull ache of her arms as she turned to one side on the cold jagged floor.

“Oh god let’s not do that again” she murmured to herself, taking a deep heavy breath to steady herself.

Abigail propped one elbow against the ground, then the other and slowly rose to her feet. The pain faded away and was replaced with an uneasy but manageable soreness she was more accustomed to working on her farm.

She could do this.

Whatever this was.

She stood to her full average height which wasn’t very tall but still better than kissing the floor. She stretched the stiffness out of her body, cracking the bones in her neck and fingers while glancing upwards.

“A cave entrance. The moss probably covered it up. And this is why invasive flora sucks.”

Abigail pursed her lips, wondering how exactly she was going to climb back up to the surface as she untangled her wet long reddish brown hair. As she was crossing a swamp, she hadn’t packed any climbing gear and who knows how deep the cave system really went.

Abigail paused her thoughts as the sound of rustling reached her ears. The scratching of fabric against leather was so oddly familiar…

Her bag!

She whipped around to the source of the noise and regretted at once as her neck muscles ached dully.

“Hey!” Abigail’s voice cracked “Oww, oww, neck. What are you doing!?”

The silhouette of the figure jumped up in surprise, shooting up to their feet, one hand raised in surrender while the other clutched a familiar dark red travel pack.

“You’re alive?” A male’s voice said with hint of confusion “That’s…that’s surprising.”

“Why?” Abigail snarled “Is that why you covered a hole with a rapid growing moss? What kind of sick trap are you running mister?”

“Moss?” The figure shook his head “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And, I checked your pulse. You were as dead as a doorknob.”

“Well obviously you didn’t do it right!”

The man shifted his weight uncomfortably “I mean it has been a while since I had to check a corpse. At least 4 years. I guess I lost my touch. I am really ashamed of myself. Seriously, I….”

Abigail tuned him out as she plucked her trusty dagger from her belt. She gripped it tightly, eyeing the shadowy figure carefully though it was hard to know where he began and the darkness of the cave ended.

“Okay.” He finished rambling “Obviously I was here to shift through a corpse’s bag and…”

“And you lost your chance!” Abigail yelled, lunging forward with murderous intent.

“Oh shit!” The figure cried out, stumbling backwards in surprise.

Abigail huffed angrily as her blade caught empty air.

“Hey!” She cried out as the person disappeared into the dark “COME BACK HERE!”

Abigail chased after him, wildly groping the thick shifting darkness, her blade scratching stone but not much else. It must’ve been seconds but to her it was an eternity when she found the soft light and a silhouette shrinking deeper into the cave.

Abigail gripped her blade tightly as she bumbled her way to the source of light, prepared for an ambush at the end of the tunnel.

She let out a battle cry, jumping around the corner hoping to catch anyone unaware.

“Wow.” She murmured softly as she took in the awe of the sight before her.

The tunnel had open up to a massive cavern: Mushrooms hung from every inch of the ceiling, gleaming with a greenish light that illuminated the cave brightly. The ground was a rolling hill with gravel, loose and uneven much like dirt. Rows of tilted and uneven stone slabs stretched out before her. Tombstones she guessed based on the faded wording and flowers scattered about.

“This is beautiful. I wonder if the mushrooms catch the moisture in the air to…FOCUS ABI!” She shook herself out of her stupor.

She caught sight of the figure retreating further and further away towards a small hut on the far side of the cavern: He wore an elegant jacket and dress pants though the embodied golden lines were faded. Slung around his back was a lute and in one hand, Abigail’s travel bag as the other flailed wildly.

“Revenge!” Abigail cried, brandishing the knife as she resumed the pursuit.

Well, tried to. She nearly lost her footing from the switch from solid stone to loose gravel. Her knife scraped against a weathered tombstone as she caught herself on it.

“Sorry about that.” She read “Lancer Dupoint. What kind of name is…” 

The figure stopped just short of the door, leaning on his knees while he tried to catch his breath “Would you please stop!”

“Never!”

“Look!” the figure shouted “I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were still alive. People fall down there and die all the time, it wasn’t anything personal.”

Abigail huffed “If it’s not personal, why do you still have my bag?”

The man looked confused for a moment before he glanced to the bag still in his grip.

“Oh….”

“Oh is right!” Abigail snarled, flinging her knife with all her might.

The man held up the bag to protect himself but the dagger sunk harmlessly an inch away from his face, embedding itself in the wooden door of the hut.

“ARE YOU CRAZY!” he screamed “You could’ve killed me!”

“Did I hit you!?” Abigail replied, scrunching up in fear.

“No! You got the door!”

“Holy shit I got the door?! I never hit anything before! Did it stick?”

“Did it stick? DID IT STICK!? YEAH ABOUT AN INCH FROM MY FACE!”

“Sorry! I never thought I’d make it that far. It’s like what 40 yards?”

“You are crazy lady! Who just throws knives!?”

“I’m sorry I was really mad at you!”

The man let out a crazed chuckle “Mad? don’t throw knives at all! Even when you’re mad!”

“You robbed me!” Abigail raised a finger in accusing manner. 

“Not on purpose. I thought you died.”

The shouting stopped as the wooden door creaked loudly on its hinges.

“Oliver, is there a reason you are currently shouting outside my house?” an older man asked, staring curiously back and forth between the two.

Abigail walked slowly over the loose gravel underneath her foot and finally got a good look at the two strangers.

The younger, named Oliver, was maybe about 2 years older than her. He had brown eyes with black hair, a splash of freckles across his cheeks. He was lanky but not much taller with ill fitting performer’s clothes. Old, long since their prime but clearly one of an entertainer given their quality.

The older gentleman had graying hair that was once blonde with a thick beard, his blue eyes kind yet understanding. Abigail couldn’t place his age: Either was 45 or 60 though the way his body hunched and the slowness of his motions hinted at the latter. He wore a simple robe and boots clearly made of a thick material.

“Hello my dear” The older man spoke gently “I am Roland, the groundskeeper of the West End Cemetery and this” he playfully nudged the younger man “Is Oliver.”

“Hello….” Oliver mumbled uneasily.

“He helps me tend the graves for some extra coin. Not as spry as I used to be you know? And you, my dear?”

“Abigail!” she cheerfully beamed “Abigail Greenfield. I fell through a hole in the Loss Swamp and fell down here where I found that one!” Oliver whistled innocently “Was robbing me!”

“Not robbing” Oliver interrupted “Liberating a departed soul of their worldly possessions.”

Abigail expected a scolding or a disappointed scowl from Roland but none came, only a nod of agreement.

“I see. I’m sure Oliver meant no harm.”

“None whatsoever. She’s the one that came at me with a knife!”

“You were a strange man going through her things as she was passed out. You would’ve maintained the element of surprise too.”

Oliver opened his mouth to argue before he nodding in agreement “Okay fair.”

“Anyway, would you like to come in Abigail? I am sure you have many questions.”

“Nah, just one. How do I get back up to the swamp?”

Roland and Oliver shared a look.

* * *

“I can’t leave?” Abigail repeated after them, the shock of the statement slowly settling over her, the warm tea in her hands remaining untouched.

“Afraid not my dear.” Roland patted her arm sympathetically.

“T-That can’t be right. This is a vast underground cavern system, t-there must be away back to the surface.”

Oliver gave a casual shrug “Look, I’ve lived down here my whole life. If there was a way out, I would’ve heard about it by now. Anyone who could’ve gotten out probably already did. Mages, clerics, magic folk with that kind of power. All zipped off. Wall are too smooth and steep to climb. Everyone else lives here in the Underground. Or the Fifth nations. Or dwarf land.”

“Dwarf land? Dwarves! They must have an entrance to…wait did you just say Fifth Nations? Like….”

“That’s what they named themselves, I’m just repeating it.” Oliver answered.

“Anyway” Abigail continued “The dwarves must have a way up! They do business with a capital and that’s like 100 miles away from my hometown and across from the swamp. Wait, how big is the Underground?”

“Vast.” Roland sipped his tea “I’d say 75 miles give or take but many roads twist and curl in on itself. Travel to the Dwarf kingdom will be slow at best.”

“And nonexistent at realism” Oliver chimed in “The Underground has many roads but the deepest most of them go is the second level and without armed escort, you’re probably not going to survive.”

“Second level? Like floors?”

Roland cleared his throat “Let me explain life here: The Underground is a vast alliance of city states. We’ve been around for hundreds of years, trapped down here but making the best of it. Most of the citizens are are 5th or even 7th generation of descendants of people who fell though once in a while someone from the surface comes tumbling down.”

“Like me! I was crossing the Loss swamp. I was walking over some mossy covered ground when it suddenly gave out. I guess the mossy is an invasive species not native to the swamp.”  
Roland gave an impressed nod. Oliver was just confused.

“Anyway” Oliver coughed “There’s 4 levels to the Underground. Most cities are built on the first level. It’s closest to any natural sunlight and water, so most creatures avoid it like the plague. There’s a road or two up on this floor but if you wanna get anywhere, you gotta travel through the second layer. It’s further down, closer to the empty void of the cave’s darkness but it was easier to carve paths through. Much more dangerous. Like more creepy crawlers and things that generally want to eat you.”

“Also bandits.” Roland added.

“Right, those fuckers. Armed escort is heavily recommended. There’s a couple of outposts that offer safe haven and patrols with the odd city or two but not much more than that.”

“And the third level?” Abigail asked curiously.

Oliver snorted “hell if I know, that’s like noooo down there. I’ve never met anyone who ever went to the third level and lived. And I am still pretty sure the fourth level is just a myth.”

“Why were you in the swamp Abigail?”

Abigail bit her lips nervously.

“You don’t have to tell us.” Roland smiled softly.

“Thank you. Umm I….I don’t know what to do now.”

“Same” Oliver rolled his eyes “I guess you live here now. West End is a small town, pretty quiet. You’ll find something here to do.”

“I want to go to the dwarf kingdom.”

Oliver rubbed his eyes tiredly “That’s nice, so you do know what you want to do. I hope you get there. It’s allllll the way on the East side of the kingdom, past the Underground and the Fifth Nation and this is a little village at the other end.”

Abigail turned to Roland, ignoring Oliver’s comment “So I take it West End isn’t gonna have a lot of travel out of here?”

The wind picked up for a moment outside and the hut groaned uneasily though Roland paid it no mind.

Roland scratched his beard thoughtfully “Well, you are right. This is a small village. Not much resources for you here. The capital, Haven’s Nest, is the next city over. You’ll have much better luck there though travel would be problematic.”

Oliver chimed in “You gotta go through a second floor path. Means you are going to need somebody who knows how to fight.”

Abigail pursed her lips, wracking her mind at possible solutions “Is there a mercenary group here?”

Oliver scratched his chin for a moment before snapping his finger “Yeah, the Swift Slivers. They’re a small group, loyal though and take fair pay but I doubt you have any….”

“My bag had at least 30 gold.”

“30 gold?” Oliver rose an eyebrow before realization hit “Wait! Surface gold?!”

“Umm.” Abigail’s eyes darted back and forth, unsure where he was going with this “Yeeeees?”

“That’s worth a fortune down here! Actually no, don’t pull that out unless you want to get robbed.”

“Right, sure.” Abigail was not sure what was going on anymore.

“Oliver.” Roland began slowly “Isn’t there a music competition you were saving up for in Haven’s Nest?”

“Yeeeeees.” Oliver narrowed his eyes suspiciously “But I still need to save up for the entry fee and paying the mercs to escort me.”

“I think you earned you pay for the month Oliver. I will cover the mercenary fee.”

“If?” Oliver rolled his eyes.

“You agree to take Abigail to the capital.”

It was harder to tell who was more opposed to the idea: The farm girl or the bard.

“Are you kidding me!? He robbed me!”

“She came at me with a knife! Even after I said I was sorry!”

“How can I trust him, he was looting my ‘corpse’!”

“She’s clearly crazy and I don’t feel safe traveling with her.”

Roland raised a hand, stopping the two arguments without a word.

“Abigail. You are new to this land. You have very little options and I can promise despite….first impressions, Oliver will not put you in danger.”

Roland turned to Oliver with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You want to go compete. This is the only way you’re going to get to the competition in time. All you have to do is take her to the capital where you were planning on going anyway. Are you really going to pass up a free ride?”

“Fine” The two huffed in unison “We’ll behave.”

“Good” Roland beamed, sliding a pouch of coins into Oliver’s hand.

Oliver glanced curiously at the older gentleman “Are you okay. Sir?”

Roland chuckled playfully “Yes quite. I just feel this is the best path forward for you both. Two people in need. A common destination. Two birds, one pouch.”

Oliver was uneasy about that answer but before he could continue with his questioning, Abigail spoke.

“Can I have my bag back?”

Oliver lost his train of his thought as he handed back the bag he had accidentally taken, glancing distastefully at his companion. 

At least she was prepared for travel: Long sleeved red tunic, blue bandana to keep her hair in check and black leggings tucked into hiking boots.

Roland let out a tired yawn, rubbing at his eyes sleepily “Now, if you excuse me, I think I need to sleep.”

“But it’s the afternoon.” Oliver muttered, something about the old man’s behavior not sitting well with him. He had never taken a nap during the day.

“I am quite old Oliver and if you hurry, you may be able to start traveling today.”

He was trying to get rid of them, Oliver was sure of that at least but the why eluded him.

Abigail simply nodded “Thank you Roland, for everything.”

“Goodbye Abigail. Oliver.”

Oliver frowned but shook the hand all the same “Old man.”

* * *

Roland waved cheerfully at the retreating figures of the unhappy pair. It wasn’t ideal and there was no guarantee that they weren’t going to kill each other but at least they were safe.

Roland took a deep, calming breath as he closed the door.

“You should’ve knocked, old friend.”

Roland turned around to find a cloaked figure sitting lazily in his chair, his golden yellow eyes peering through the shroud of his hood.

“Ello Roland. Long time.”

“Long time” Roland sighed “Tea? Milk?”

“Milk” The figure murmured with a grin “Sounds lovely.”

Roland grimaced, making his way to the kitchen to serve his uninvited guest.

“Nice house.” The figure called out, eyeing the small hut with approval “Cozy. Quiet. Isolated.”

“That’s why I picked it.” Roland answered, pouring the milk into a glass “Nice retirement plan.”

“Agreed.” The figure chuckled “Never thought you’d retire. The most powerful wizard in all the Underground. Toiling graves.”

“Well.” Roland poured a drink for himself “Not all of us want to die pursing endless hobbies.”

Roland made his way back to his guest, handing him his drink and taking a seat across from him.

“You got one ready out there?” The figure gestured to the window.

“Yeah. It’s by the gate. Very nice.”

“Perks of a gravekeeper.”

“Mhm.”

The silence was tense as they finished their drinks slowly. They stared at one another, the moment close at hand.

The figure stood up, drawing a blade hidden beneath his cloak “Would you like to take a read of your book before we start?”

Roland shook his head “I always hoped you would’ve died in this vain pursuit. I suppose I’ll have to kill you myself.”

The figure gave a toothy grin, his eyes gleaming with humor “I am blessed by my lady. You may try but I assure you I won’t be stopped.”

Roland remained silent, his finger tracing symbols in the air. Blue magical runes fill the appear before him as the figure closes the distance.


	2. Normalcy (or as normal as it can get)

It was strange how familiar yet uncertain walking a main road could be.

Abigail’s farm was half a mile outside of town so she was no stranger to strolling into civilization at odd times throughout the day for whatever reason.

Some things remained the same: The well worn and well traveled path uneven due to the countless visitors coming and going, the hushed sounds of life just out of sight and the familiarity of coming home after a long day.

Of course there were things Abigail was not used to: The tunnels walls that surrounded her, the chilly air of the underground mixed with the soft warm glow of the mushrooms that lined the floor and the uneasiness that came with being in a new place with no idea what to expect.

She wanted to go home.

The silence was as awkward and tense as expected given the two companions tried to kill each other barely an hour ago.

“So” Abigail began for the fifth time “Are these mushrooms actually projecting heat or is it just my imagination?”

Oliver let out an annoyed sigh “You’re just gonna keep at this huh?”

“Yep!”

“Fiiiiiiine” Oliver rolled his eyes “Yes the mushrooms actually store and release heat. They’re all over the Underground. Some of the people who used to live above say it’s comparable to the sunlight so no worries about lack of sun or whatever dark magic humans need to stay alive.”

“Good to know!” Abigail beamed “I wonder if they have some sort of moisture based photosynthesis or….”

She leaned closer to the gleaming green mushroom. It was no bigger than her hand yet it radiated with a cozy warmth.

Oliver stared blankly towards her “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What are these cuties called?” Abigail asked curiously.

Oliver scrunched up his face thoughtfully “I think illumashrooms?”

“That is the cutest name! If I pick one, will it keep generating heat?”

“Umm” Oliver began but Abigail didn’t wait for an answer. She gently plucked it from the ground and eyed it closely.

“Not as slimy as I thought it be” Abigail noted while she twisted it back and forth in her grip “and about the same texture as a regular mushroom. It loses quite a bit of heat once it leaves the soil but it still warm. Interesting.”

Before Oliver could ready a retort, Abigail gently replanted the fungal plant. The dimming light brightened once more.

“You are just….like this huh?”

“With plants? Absolutely. Everything else not so much.”

Oliver sighed tiredly, opting to pluck his lute mindlessly instead of pushing conversation further.

Silence returned though Abigail felt marginally better than she had before. She might’ve not been the smartest or most knowledgeable tool in the shed but if there was one thing she knew, it was plants.

And animals.

And a little bit of cooking. Just a little bit.

Abigail shot a passing glance over the music instrument, taking in as much detail as she could.

It was black with blue lining and glimmering gold strings. Every inch was clean and unusually polished almost as if it remained untouched by time. Magically imbued, if not created, if she hazard a guess. To which extent was beyond her.

“Are you one of those magic bards or just a normal one?”

Oliver cleared his throat, eying Abigail distastefully as he plucked a cheerful jig on his lute. His form bounced back and forth playfully as he sang with a mocking edge into the stillness of the cave

_"_ _T_ _here once was a girl_ _A_ _bi, who tends to be very crabby. Lo and behold, she's being pretty crappy and this shit ain't up my alley"_

Abigail scoffed “What, being a decent human being? You could’ve just told me none of your business. I’m just curious.”

“And I’m not” Oliver shot back “Look you tried to kill me….”

“After you tried to rob me.”

“After I tried to rob you” Oliver conceded “I say we’re even but if you are expecting me to play 20 questions with you, that’s not gonna happen.”

“So you’re boring then.”

Oliver gritted his teeth “I am not boring.”

Abigail rolled her eyes “Extremely. How far is the capital from here?”

Oliver scratched his chin “About half a day give or take. Still I rather go with more daytime so we’ll have to stay at Ma’s and head out first thing in the morning…”

Abigail slowed her step “Ma’s? As in….”

“What? Oh no” Oliver shook his head “Everyone calls her Ma. She runs a boarding house. She’ll let us stay for free if we agree to wash dishes or something.

“Okay, that’s something I can do!”

The silence returned but the busying sounds of life begin to grow louder and louder down the tunnel.

Abigail’s eyes grew wide with wonder as she fist saw the quaint village at the kingdom’s edge.

It wasn’t too far different than her hometown: Homes on uneven, sloping rocky hills made of stone, rock and wood. Shops centered in the town center’s with various signs in different styles. People bustling about and living their lives the best way they knew how.

What was too familiar to Abigail was the gentle warmth of the sun’s rays basking her face in a halo of light through the perfectly cut circular hole at the cavern’s ceiling. The sun moved lazily across the sky as the cavern walls seemed moved and glittered with translucent rainbow sheen.

Abigail touched the nearest wall curiously and shuddered as a cold liquid passed over her hand and continued towards the floor.

“Water.” Abigail wiped her hand dry against her clothes “This is water!”

Oliver sighed “This is one of the few places where we can get natural sunlight. I guess the opening is under a lake or something because water pours in through the opening and slides down the walls. The town has a series of pipes built into the bedrock that collects it into container and is the town’s water supplies. After it’s been cleaned and purified.”

“Heated?”

“Umm, sure.” Oliver shrugged.

“I’m going to go with heated up to kill impurities. Or magic. I guess magic too.”

“Can we just go to Ma’s?”

Abigail looked confused “Shouldn’t we hire the mercenaries or we do that first thing in the morning?”

“Right,” Oliver coughed awkwardly “I was just testing you. We should talk to Swift Slivers before it gets too late. Sleepy towns tend to make merc groups turn in early.”

“So to the local bar?” Abigail asked quizzically.

“Since when do you know where to find mercs?”

“I lived on a farm on the outskirts of town, not the middle of the forest. “

“How the hell am I supposed to know that? I just met you.”

“Right. Whoops. Sorry.”

* * *

The tavern was lively despite how early in the day it was: Cheerful booming voices singing terribly at the top of their lungs while the rustling of drinks and scraping of forks against metal plates filled the air.

There was a simplicity to the tavern: A counter with a friendly older man tending it with stools and tables with chairs filling out the room. Various odd knickknacks and memorabilia littered the walls which gave the building a friendly cozy feeling. Everything in here was old and worn but their dents and dings were inviting, a testament to their long life and craftsmanship.

The Swift Slivers weren’t hard to find given the only other person in the building was a cloaked woman sitting in at the counter: They were clumped in the middle of the bar, a dozen or so mix matched people with varying equipment but each sharing a signature sliver hue to their clothing.

As far as mercenaries went, Abigail had seen worse: She could count a few front liners with their spears, swords and shields scattered about, an archer or two and their wizard tucked away in the corner, her mouth murmuring along with the singing while she wrote feverishly in her book.

“ _E’re to my beloved”_ the gray and brown haired dwarf belted loudly.

“ _E’re to my beloved!”_ The company replied, raising their drinks as one.

“ _Whom which I loathe to roam”_

“ _Whom which I loathe to roam”_

“ _Though today we be parted, tomorrow I’ll soon be going home!”_

“ _Sooooon be going hooooooome!”_

Abigail couldn’t keep the infectious smile off her face “I like them.”

Oliver shook his head dismissively “Yeah but they could work on their pitch. Little ear bleedy.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of their workload maybe. Now farm girl, there’s something you need to know before we deal with a…”

Oliver turned to empty air as his companion had already made her way over to the table, waving eagerly towards the aged dwarf.

“Who do we have here?” the dwarf’s earthy brown eyes twinkled mischievous manner “A human girly?”

The dwarf was an older gentleman, about halfway through his lifetime, mid to late 500’s. His face was well weathered and scarred but beamed with pride His armor was as old as its owner but well cared for along with the sword that hung at his side.

“Aye!” Abigail raised her hand in salute “I’m Abigail, daughter of Ava and Henry Greenfield.’

The dwarf’s laughter boomed throughout the tavern “A well versed human! Well Greenfield, daughter of Ava and Henry, I am Borrick, son of Borrin and Shelia Copperstone. What business do you have with me?”

Oliver rubbed his eyes tiredly as he made his way over the counter, motioning to the bartender for a drink.

Abigail gestured to the chair.

Borrick gave a reassuring nod.

Abigail sat down “Well I would like to hire some of your men for a job Copperstone.”

“Oh?” Borrick stroked his brownish-gray beard thoughtfully “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you Greenfield. We’re book solid.”

“Ah” Abigail pouted unhappily “Seriously? Well good for you Copperstone. To your health and fortune good sir!”

Abigail rose from her seat but Borrick raised a hand “Well since you were so polite Greenfield, perhaps we can work some sort of arrangement. Don’t often meet folk who know how to greet a dwarf let alone give a proper farewell.”

“My parents taught me to do business with all kinds: Elves, humans, dwarfs.”

“They did an excellent job. So what do you need today Greenfield?”

“Tomorrow actually” Abigail corrected “My friend and I need an armed escort to Haven’s Nest.”

She could see the gears turn behind the old dwarf’s eyes, calculating and thinking.

“We are secluded to head towards Fort Mercer in a few day for some military op. We’ll be bypassing Haven’s Nest completely.”

“Right, right” Abigail nodded despite having no idea what he was talking about.

“But” He raised a finger “The path to Haven’s Nest is relatively safe. I suppose I spare one of my crew. Archie, front and center!”

There was choir of snickering as one of the younger mercenaries frantically stood up, scrambling to keep his balance steady as he rushed forward for introductions.

He was roughly Abigail’s age with shaggy, unkempt brown hair that went down to his neck. His light brown eyes were both uneasy and unprepared as if he hadn’t expected to be called upon. There was a splash of freckles across his nose that had clearly been broken once. Archie was a little shorter than her and lanky though his armor fit him well enough. His weapon of choice, a hunter’s bow, hung around his shoulder.

“Archibald Gray aka Archie. Don’t let his boyish good looks fool you, he’s quite a shot and dependable in a pinch.”

Archibald frowned, seemingly disliking the fact he had been called boyishly good looking.

Borrick leaned in with a conspiratorial tone “He doesn’t like being called young”

Archibald pouted but said nothing about his commander’s comment.

“Hi!” Abigail beamed cheerfully before dropping into a whisper “Do they follow the….?”

“What? Oh no. You can greet humanly if you wish.”

“Excellent” Abigail outstretched her hand “Abigail Greenfield, nice to meet you!”

Archibald gingerly takes Abigail's hand and gives it a polite, firm shake.

“Not much of a talker are you?”

Archibald shook his head.

“Fair enough.”

Borrick let out a playful bellow “You are dismissed Archie, Greenfield and I must talk terms!”

Archibald gave a well-mannered bow before sheepishly returning to his seat, his head low as he ignored the chortling of his fellow mercenaries.

Abigail sat back down, gesturing for the waitress to take their order.

“So Greenfield” Borrick began while placing a single gold coin onto the table’s edge “How long to do you reckon you’ll need mister Gray?”

Abigail bite her lip thoughtfully while looking back towards Oliver, the bard raising an eyebrow when he caught sight of her gazing his way.

“Wha?” Oliver mouthed quizzically.

Abigail held her hands out like she was holding something in between.

Oliver stared for a moment before he rolled his eyes. He made his over, reaching into his bag and pulling out several gold coins from their hidden cache.

Abigail beamed joyfully “Wanna join?”

Oliver eyed the ceiling disinterested “Yeeeeeah no I’m good. Good luck.”

“He’s no fun” Abigail snickered, placing a gold coin next to Borrick’s.

Borrick’s laughter boomed throughout the tavern once more.

“Well versed indeed!”

Abigail gave a proud nod as the waitress approached “One water please!”

“I’ll have the house special mead!”

The waitress hastily scrawled their orders before gracefully heading towards the counter with seasoned practice.

“So, daily rate?”

Borrick mumbled under his breath, ticking off fingers as he spoke “There be various factors of course: Distance, the type of job, the level of protecting needed, cargo.”

“Well one person for half a day to day’s travel seems pretty simple. I’d say 5 gold.”

Abigail gently placed another gold coin ontop of the first.

“We’re no simple thugs swinging swords wildly. We’re the Swift Slivers!”

The merry band of mercenaries raised their cups, responding to their leaders call with joyful tones. The wizard raised her quill.

Borrick puffed out his chest with a fatherly pride “8 gold for one of my finest archers. Seems fair enough.”

A second gold joined Borrick’s first.

The old dwarf could see the gears turning in the farm girl’s head and wasn’t too surprised when she countered with a “5 gold and we’ll feed him.”

A 3rd gold piece created respectable pile.

Borrick remained silent for a moment before a toothy grin formed on his face “5 gold and meals? Normally I’d haggle a bit more but you honored me Greenfield and I shall do the same! Deal!”

The two shared a firm handshake, sealing the terms of agreement as the waitress returned to their orders. Borrick slid the two gold stacks onto her empty tray with a cheerful wink.

The waitress, confused but grateful, slid the extra money into her pockets and gave a thankful nod.

“So” Borrick settled back into his seat “when do you figure you’ll be leaving?”

Abigail took a sip of her water “Early in the morning. Best to get a move on so we can get your man back to you.”

“Very kind of you. Where are you staying?”

“Uhhhh….”

“Ma’s!” Oliver bellowed, rolling his eyes once again before taking a long drink.

“Ma’s!” Abigail repeated proudly.

The old dwarf’s eyes twinkled brightly at the mention of Ma “Ah, a mighty fine woman. Very kind to offer her home to to weary travelers.”

Abigail grinned mischievously “Perhaps you should see your man off yourself Copperstone. Just to make sure he’s on time.”

Borrick stroked his beard “Perhaps that is a good idea Greenfield.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow Greenfield!”

* * *

Cecilia the wizard was hard at work. As the only magic user in the Swift Slivers, she possessed a heavy burden for the rest of her family and she took her responsibility seriously. So seriously she spent her break time furiously memorizing her spells, carefully weighing magic in her book against the possible situations the group may encounter. Her curly brown hair was unkempt as usual as her green eyes focused on the various gestures and words needed to tug at the magical weave of the world.

“Psst, hey.”

Cecilia mumbled under her breath “Are we going anywhere high up? Do I really need Featherfall?”

“Heeeeeeeelllooooo.”

“If Archie’s not gonna be with us, that’s 10 people which should be enough for the spell. Is Featherfall 10 or 8 people? I forget”

“Hey, miss wizard lady!”

“Huh?” Cecilia’s concentration was broken at least and turned to the voice calling her.

Instead of one of her fellow mercenaries, she found herself way too close to a pair of gray eyes and brimming smile.

“Hi!” Abigail greeted.

“Ah!” Cecilia flailed backwards, sending her book sprawling to the floor.

Abigail, luckily, was quick on the draw, snatching the book midair and gently placing it on the table.

She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly “S-sorry, I hadn’t mean to startled you.”

Cecilia smiled nervously “It’s okay. Umm, did boss tell you to talk to me?”

“What?” Abigail cocked her eyebrow “Oh! Oh, no no no. I just had a question. If that was alright with you?”

“Was that the question?”

Abigail chuckled causing a flush to spread across Cecilia’s face “Another question I mean.”

Cecilia shyly nodded “Sure.”

“You don’t happen to have a teleportation spell, do you?”

Cecilia’s eyes narrowed, not in suspicion but rather curiosity. She had caught bits and pieces of this girl’s conversation with the boss so she could figure she was an outgoing person, probably dealt with a lot people on a daily basis.

Her gray eyes were pleading, a hidden desperation behind the joy. She was keeping up a smile but Cecilia could see the strain behind it.

“I’m sorry.”

Disappointment flashed only for a moment before a playful grin replaced her warm smile.

“It’s okay” Abigail tilted her head cutely “Thank you so much for your time.”

“You’re welcome”

“Bye everyone!” Abigail waved towards the Swift Slivers “See you tomorrow Archie!”

Archie gave an awkward wave as the group roared around him.

Abigail placed her hand Oliver’s shoulder “See you at Ma’s?”

Oliver placed down a gold coin on the counter “I just finished. Let’s turn in.”

* * *

“Welcome to Ma’s! How can I help you?”

“You’re beautiful.” Abigail murmured, unable to keep the awestruck tone from her voice.

“Well thank you!” Ma beamed with a knowing wink.

Ma was a human in her mid 50’s. Her long black and gray hair was tied into a practical ponytail. Her warm brown eyes shone with a comfort only a mother could provide and Abigail could see the deeply etched smile lines across her cheeks, signs of a happy, long life well lived.

“So, two separate rooms?”

Abigail tilted her quizzically “yeah, how’d you know?”

“Sweetie, you don’t last long in this business without learning people. Something I suspect you know well.”

Abigail said nothing, opting to wink instead.

“Now will you be paying with gold or chores?”

“Gold” Oliver handed over 5 gold pieces “For last as well.”

“Now Olie, you needn’t do that. Your music was payment enough.”

Oliver pushed the gold closer to the older woman “Take it as my appreciation then.”

“Very well then. I’m not going to argue with a gentleman. And you sweetie?”

Abigail nudged Oliver roughly “Both. 2 gold and chores?”

Oliver grumbled under his breath but fished out the money needed as Ma chortled “I like you. 2 gold and chores! I got some dishes that need washing.”

“Gladly!”

The house was nice all things considered. 2 stories, about 5 to 6 rooms for travelers, spacious kitchen with a washroom to clean up. Lively yet still private.

It had been awhile since Abigail had been in a lively home.

She tiredly placed her bag by the door as she lurched into her room.

“Long day” She mumbled to herself “Longer month.”

She ran her hand through her reddish brown hair, allowing her fingers ease the tension in her skull as she made her way to the mirror hanging on the wall.

She gently placed her hand against the smooth, cold surface as she stared her exhausted form in the reflection.

Abigail reached into her vest and carefully pulled out the worn photo of her parents.

It was taken early on in their relationship, long before her brother and herself had even been idea. Her father, tall and refined as she remembered with her mother the eternal sunshine she had always known. Their smiles frozen in a moment of happiness.

“I really messed up guys.” Abigail sighed sorrowfully “I lost your trail. I figured I could save some time cross the swamp but now….”

She rubbed her thumb across the photo.

“I’ll find you. I just got a little sidetracked but I will find you. I won’t lose you like we lost Arthur. Just wait a bit more. I love you.”

Abigail gently kissed her parents foreheads, letting a single tear run down her cheek.

“Okay Abi, no time for tears” she told herself, wiping away the tear “You need to rest.”

She glanced out the second floor window, watching the moon shine brightly through the ceiling, basking the cavern in a soft glow.

“Tomorrow’s a big day.”


	3. Into the underground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After discovering more about the underground, Abigail vows to find her way out to find her parents. After a long restless night, she's ready to take her first steps into the underground proper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, E here! Hope you are all staying safe in these really tiring times. Seriously stay safe, wash your hands and wear your masks. It's important to keep everyone safe, not just you. I hope you all have a great time reading my original work and feel free to leave me a comment! I love hearing what you all think! Have a great week everyone!

Sleep did not come easy to Abigail. Her body was heavy with exhaustion but her mind reeled at the day’s events: Her fall, chasing down Oliver, the discovery of the Underground. All the while her missing parents poked and prodded at her conscience, guilt growing with each memory she played in her mind.

“Abigail? It’s morning.”

Abigail groaned unhappily, the faint sunlight in the distant barely dispelling the darkness.

“Coming.”

Abigail groggily rose from her bed, brushing her messy bedhead with a free hand as she slipped into her hiking boots.

“Okay Abi, smiles.” she murmured to herself. She took one last, long look at the precious photo allowing a smile to grow from her lips “I love you guys. Wish me luck!”

Abigail slipped the photo back into her tunic and slung her pack over her shoulder. She took a deep calming breath, forcing a smile back onto her lips as she made her way downstairs to a red faced Ma and grinning Oliver.

“Oh Ollie, that’s a good one. Mind I take it for a spell?”

Oliver waved off her question “Take it as a gift. Gotta keep convincing everyone you’re a charming old lady.”

Ma snorted “You missed the am part of that sentence.”

“That’s the spirit.” Oliver jokingly patted her shoulder.

“Morning!” Abigail beamed from the top stairs.

“Morning Abigail!” Ma greeted.

Oliver said nothing, instead opting to nod instead. Oliver’s face broke into a flinch as Ma playfully pulled at his ear, giving it a rough but ultimately harmless tug.

“You treat this young lady as if she was family, you hear?”

Oliver tried to pull away “Light teasing and annoyance, got it!”

Ma released her hold and gave Abigail a mischievous wink.

Abigail chuckled “Don’t worry Ma, I can take care of myself!”

“You made that abundantly clear yesterday” Ma acknowledged “But let an old lady have her fun.”

Ma pinched Oliver’s cheeks lovingly “It’s just a joke sonny. Don’t be so uptight.”

Oliver replied with a cheshire grin “I hope you remember that piece of advice in 20 seconds.”

And without a word, the bard made his way towards the door.

Ma blinked uneasily “Should I be concerned?”

“Not sure” Abigail answered “I haven’t known him long enough to tell if that’s a threat or a joke.”

Before the two could carry on with their conversion, Oliver called out in a singsongy voice.

“Ooooooh Ma! You have a visitor.”

Ma and Abigail shared a concerned glance.

“I think you should just get it over with Ma.”

“Easy for you to say dearie, you’re not the one with a surprise outside.”

Abigail placed her arm around Ma, carefully guiding the older woman outside to face whatever had been waiting for her. Ma flushed as Oliver gave a cheeky smirk, gesturing playfully towards a familiar dwarf.

Borrick had brought his A game today: His beard was well trimmed and combed giving the old mercenary an air of regal refinement. His armor, while dented and well worn as usual, was freshly polished and gleamed brightly in the dim sunlight that filled the cavern. Gone was his laxed posture and in its place stood the proud leader of his band of merry mercs.

“Madelyn.” Borrick spoke shyly while he took her hand in his and gently kissed it.

“Copperstone.” Ma nervously replied, her cheeks burning a brighter pink every second.

“Please you’ve known me long enough to know you can call me Borrick.”

Ma opened her mouth but Oliver cut in “Come on Ma, lighten up! Don’t be so uptight.”If looks could kill, Oliver would’ve at the very least been maimed by Ma’s steely death glare.

“Perhaps I came on a bit too strong.” Borrick concluded, letting go of Ma’s hand only for the older woman to snatch back it greedily.

“No” Ma cleared her throat “I’m sorry I hadn’t gotten my morning coffee. I’m just a little…”

“Tired?” Oliver gave an impish grin “Perhaps Mr. Copperstone could cook you some breakfast.”

“I will hit you with a frying pan” Ma murmured under her breath but Borrick seemed to pay it no mind.

“It would be my honor!” Borrick bellowed with a smile.

Ma shook her head hurriedly “Oh I couldn’t impose, you really…”

Borrick squeezed her hand “You do so much for everyone Madelyn. Let someone do something for you.”

“Okay” Ma relented, allowing the dwarf to carefully lead her back into the home, the Swift Slivers cheering loudly at sight of them.

Oliver beamed with a quiet pride, basking in the glow of another successful payback.

Abigail made her way over to Oliver, her face caught between amazement and suspicion “I can’t tell if I should be impressed or concerned.”

“Both” Oliver stretched his arms “Both is good.”

“How’d you know he was outside?”

“You kidding? I heard him coming a block away. Him and a dozen footsteps marching out of tempo isn’t exactly quiet.”

Abigail hadn’t recalled hearing anything before she was forcefully awakened but she hadn’t exactly been paying attention either.

With their leader otherwise occupied, the professional Swift Slivers quickly devolved into a pack of school children: The more childish of the group broke out in playful shoving and joking taunts with the odd wage placed here and there. The more responsible members began going through their packs, writing down and organizing the group’s supply for their long trip to Fort Mercer.

Abigail hadn’t yet spot Archibald in the crowd but the familiar curls of a wizard rushed into her view instead.

Cecilia timidly made her way over to Abigail, her fingers playing with the hem of her robes. Oliver quickly walked away.

“Hello.” Cecilia mumbled quietly.

“Good morning! Is there something I can help you with?”

Cecilia shook her head “No. No. No b-but I thought of something last night that could help you.”

Abigail tilted her head quizzically before realization dawned on her “Oh! Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for bothering you with such a weird request."

Cecilia shook her head once more “Nothing wrong with going home. It wasn’t too hard to figure out” she added quickly upon seen Abigail’s shocked face “I am a wizard. I’m supposed to be smart. Don’t worry I haven’t told anyone.”

Abigail sighed in relief.

“But” Cecilia carried on “If you’re going to Haven’s Nest, my mentor lives there. Degan Arch. Secretive man who lives in the Clifftops district. If you mention my name, he might be willing to see you. Assuming he hasn’t killed himself with his weird experiments. If he doesn’t have a teleport spell, he’ll at least know someone who might.”

“Really?” Abigail smiled wide and took Cecilia’s hands in her own causing the wizard to flush a bright red “Thank you, thank you so much! Cecilia…..?”

Cecilia stood there frozen, eyes wide in shock and surprise.

Abigail motioned for her to go on.

Cecilia too caught up in the warmth of Abigail’s hand to really understood what she was asking of her.

“Sorry I didn’t catch your last name” Abigail admitted with a twinge of embarrassment.

“Last name?” Cecilia’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion “Oh! _My_ last name. It’s Winter. Cecilia. Cecilia Winter. You can just call me Cecilia.”

“Thank you Cecilia. It means a lot to me.”

Cecilia nodded dumbly.

Abigail let go of the other girl’s hands “I’ll take good care of Archibald.”

Cecilia just kept nodding “Of course. Course. Archibald? Oh! Right. Archibald. Please do. He might be the newest member but he’s family.”

“Promise.”

“Okay bye” Cecilia spoke quickly, turning tail and ducking her head low at the cheering Swift Slivers.

“Well that happened.” Oliver made his way over.

Abigail cheerfully waved good bye at her retreating form “I wonder what was that about.”

Oliver just stared at her in disbelief.

“What?”

Oliver shook his head.

“No seriously what?”

“I’m just amazed at your density.”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“You are going to cause so many problems, aren’t you?”

Abigail huffed “and you won’t?”

Oliver shook his head “Oh no I totally will but at least I’m aware of the trouble I’m causing. You’re gonna cause panic left and right.”

She tilted her head quizzically “Panic? Why would I cause panic?”

Oliver sighed tiredly “You know what? Forget it. Let’s just find Archibald and get on with it.”

Abigail was confused but decided to let it go: She was going to to spend the next day and half with this bard, best to keep it as civilized as her patience would allow.

Oliver glanced about looking for their third party member but Abigail caught him linger on the road to the cemetery for a moment.

“Did you want to check on your boss?”

“No. He’s fine and the competition is in a few days. We need to get a move on if I want to get there in time for sign ups.”

Oliver’s tone was neutral but Abigail sensed a fearful edge to it. Whatever lie he was trying to sell himself, he clearly wasn’t buying it.

“And you” Oliver spoke suddenly, whirling around quickly and pointing an accusatory finger at Archibald “Shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

Archibald rose his hands up defensively.

“Leave him alone” Abigail quickly jumped in “It’s not his fault we weren’t paying attention”

Oliver remained silent.

Archibald dressed for combat and/or travel: He wore a thick vest of leather with the same sliverish hue as his fellow mercenaries. A black riding cloak slung over his frame with his bow on one shoulder and his quiver of arrows on the others. He wore black leather pants with a shortsword at his side and well worn hiking boots.

“Looking sharp” Abigail beamed cheerfully.

Archibald nervously smiled.A silence fell over the trio.

“So” Abigail spoke up “Shall we go?”

Archibald rose a curious eyebrow as he questioningly gestured to his riding cloak.

“Umm….nice cloak?” Abigail spoke, unsure what Archibald was getting at.

“He’s asking if you have a cloak, it gets pretty cold in the second layer tunnels.” Oliver filled in.

“What? No! Of course not! How would I even have one? And you’re just messing with me.” Abigail scoffed “Do you even….?”

Abigail’s words died in her throat as Oliver pulled out a rather thick elegant though worn cape from his back, slinging it around his body with a smugness only a bard could muster.

“I hate you.”

So much for being civilized.

Archibald rolled his eyes. He dug into his travel pack, pulling out his backup cloak and held it out for Abigail to take.

“I can’t believe you Oliver. You knew I needed a cloak and you weren’t going to tell me!”

Any second now.

Oliver waved her off “You’re a big girl. You should know caves get colder as you go deeper.”

Yep, any moment.

“How?!” Abigail screeched “I’ve never been in a cave before!”

Archibald’s eyes darted back and forth between the arguing pair, unsure if he should cut in or just keep politely holding out the increasingly heavy cloak.

“Abigail.”

Abigail snapped out of her anger tinged rant to see Cecilia gesturing behind her. Confused, Abigail turned around to find Archibald holding out a second cloak, beads of sweat forming his brow.

“Oh! Sorry Archibald!” Abigail scrambled, nearly tripping over herself as she took the piece of clothing from the mercenary “Thank you. It’s nice to know _one_ of you is a gentleman.”

“I never said I was.”

“Can I pay you to kill him?” Abigail murmured darkly towards the archer.

Archibald stroke his chin thoughtfully before rubbing his finger and thumb together.

“Assassination is an option?”

Archibald rocked his hand back and forth.

“Better than a no.” Abigail eyed Oliver menacingly.

“Please you’re not going to assassinate me. You don’t have the money.”

“Yet.”

Archibald chuckled to himself as he gestured for them to get a move on.

The trio made their way through the tiny village, the normalcy of people out and about living their lives under the warm glow of the sun made Abigail’s heart ache with familiarity.

They fell into an awkward quiet, necessity guiding their feet towards the road out of town.

It was strange to be part of a group so disconnected. Normally when Abigail traveled, it was with her parents to the town or perhaps to further off markets. Occasionally they would hire the odd bodyguard or catch a ride with the kingdom’s soldiers when bandits acted up on the main roads but there was always someone she knew close at hand.

But this group held no such intimacy. Each traveled for their own personal agenda: An infuriating bard seeking to compete, an aloof though kind mercenary here for a job and her, a farm girl trying to get back home.

Abigail could hear the uneven steps of the Swift Slivers behind them, their idle chatter and jokes thundering in her ear.

She wanted to ask Archibald if there was any particular reason his band was following them to the edge of town but his eyes were so fixated on the road, she felt rude breaking his concentration.

Abigail flinched as Oliver nudge her side “What??”

Oliver pointed forward “There it is. The stony rock road to Haven’s Nest.”

The word road was far too generous: It was more of a massive hole in the ground, wide enough to easily fit the Swift Slivers if they decided to march side by side. The path was uneven, sloping downward into a thick dark void with only the dimmest light in the distance. Even from here, Abigail could feel the icy air chill her bones despite the glow of the sun at her back.

“I can see why you need the cloaks” Abigail chuckled nervously, bundling herself as much as she could in her cloak.

Archibald nodded in agreement, Oliver rolled his eyes.

“Archie!” A voice boomed from behind the trio.

Archibald sighed, unable to keep the embarrassment out of his cheeks as his fellow mercenaries quickly enveloped him a sea of tight hugs and back pats.

Abigail smiled at the group’s affection: some wished him luck, others reminded him to be careful, one or two even teased him about not running off with a girl once he reached Haven’s Nest. Archibald’s ears were a bright pink but Abigail found it sweet that this group cared so much for their fellow members.

Cecilia was the last to approach, her shy steps replaced with determination.

“No dying on me.” She warned, wagging her finger threateningly as if he was a younger sibling who needed reminding not to cause trouble.

Archibald placed one hand over his heart while holding the other up like he was making a pledge.

“Good. You’re one of the few people I can stand.”

“WE HEARD THAT!” a voice called from the mass.

Cecilia flipped them off in response.

“Was not expecting that.” Abigail murmured to herself “She was so shy and flustered easily.”

“I suspect you have that effect on people.” Oliver replied, checking his nails for nonexistent dirt.

“Wha?”

“Denser than steel.”

Archibald rose an eyebrow questioningly.

Cecilia nodded in agreement. Abigail stared in awe as Cecilia rose her hand in a strange gesture towards her fellow Swift Sliver. Arcane runes appeared from thin air, pink symbols hanging midair for a moment as Cecilia chanted in some unknown language. The symbols vanished but that was it.

“Was that a spell?” Abigail asked.

“Obviously.” Oliver grunted.

“What did it do?”

“Why don’t you ask _her_?”

“Good idea!”

Oliver facepalmed as Abigail made her way over to the pair.

Archibald shook Cecilia’s hand in thanks and pulled away just in time for Abigail to sandwich between them.

“Abigail! Hi! Hi.” Cecilia flushed a bright red as she took a step back, nearly tripping over herself in surprise.

Archibald snickered into his sleeve as Abigail beamed cheerfully “Cecilia! Hi! Question? What spell did you just use?”

“Spell? Spell! Right because I’m a wizard. That’s my job. Spells. Pew pew.”

Cecilia could feel the blood pool in her face as Archibald rose an eyebrow quizzically behind the farm girl.

“It’s Mage Armor.” Cecilia explained, twiddling her fingers nervously.

“Mage Armor? That’s so cool!” Abigail couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“It’s a simple spell. Not that impressive.” Cecilia muttered quietly.

“Not impressive? That’s amazing!”

Abigail turned around and quickly leaned forward towards Archibald.

Archibald’s ears turned a bright pink again as Abigail eyed him carefully. Cecilia mouthed mockingly “Not so easy, is it?”

Abigail was oblivious to all this, too fixated on discovering any sign of the magical spell. At first it appeared nothing had changed with Archibald but a moment later, she caught it: A translucent layer superimposed ontop of his body almost like a second skin that gleamed under the sunlight.

Abigail cheered “I see it!”

Cecilia coughed “Y-yeah. It’s pretty basic so it’s not impenetrable but will help with the odd knick or blade.”

“Hey Cecilia, can you put it on me?”

Cecilia blinked, unsure if she heard correctly “You?”

Abigail nodded eagerly.

“S-sure.” Cecilia coughed “We shouldn’t run into too much trouble. I think I spare an extra spell.”

“You can’t just do this at will?” Abigail asked curiously.

Cecilia gestured with her hand, the arcane symbols appearing once again “Yes and no. There’s some basic spells are effortless that I could do forever and a half but this? I’m tugging and moving the weave itself. Reality isn’t a fan of being altered and I only have so much magical strength to pull at the weave.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” Abigail cutely admitted.

“Yeah that’s normal.” Cecilia answered before chanting in the strange unknown language as before. The symbols vanished as a warm sensation filled Abigail’s body, traveling from the top of her head to her toes. She glanced at her hands and squealed at the sight of the translucent barrier over her hands.

Abigail’s grin broke into a smile “Thanks Cecilia!”

Cecilia’s blush worsen. “No problem. Just remember this wears off in 8 hours so try to get as much distance in as you can.”

“Will do! Ready Archibald?”

Archibald nodded, motioning for Abigail to go ahead. As Abigail happily skipped ahead, Archibald snickered openly at the wizard.

Cecilia glared “Shut up. You’re the one going to be stuck with her for the next day.”

Archibald coughed into his cloak and hurriedly made his way after Abigail.

“We done here?” Oliver asked.

“We’re done here.” Abigail answered, turning to face the road.

Oliver and Archibald took their first steps without hesitation, descending deeper into the inky thick darkness.

“For my family” Abigail whispered to herself, taking a deep calming breath and plunging herself deeper into the underground.


	4. The Underground Proper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally time to enter the Underground proper. Abigail and company had an exciting large send off but the first steps of the journey are at hand and Abigail is quick to realize that leaving the Underground might be harder than she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 2021! WOO! Thank god. I know it's pretty much just arbitrary signal of the passage of time but you gotta enjoy the little things. I hope you are all good, staying safe and sound in these chaotic times. Here is the new chapter which I hope you enjoy. Feel free to comment or leave kudos and tell your friends about it! Wear your masks, wash your hands, have a great week! E out!

The longer Abigail stayed in the Underground, the more realized she was wildly getting further and further out of her depth.

She thought the little walk from the cemetery to town had properly prepared for her trek into the wilds but all it had really done was lure her into a false sense of security.

The tunnel floor was uneven, the ground straightening and sloping at random which nearly caused her to trip once or twice. The path would randomly grow and shrink as well, sometimes becoming so wide that the Swift Slivers could march side by side then without warning becoming so narrow the trio had to fall into a single file line. She jumped at noises that abruptly existed in the tunnel, signs of life or movement echoing further down the path. The air was frigid and moist, reminding Abigail of her town’s harshest winters. She tried to keep track of where the group currently was but that ultimately proved useless as the road would veer slightly left, snaked back and forth, bent at a weird angle and sometimes looped back around, rising or falling with a spiral or slope. Illumashrooms weren’t as plentiful as the town and while it wasn’t pitch dark, Abigail had to squint and focus among the dim light of the occasional mushroom found on the path.

Her dear departed brother Arthur once mentioned how he was not a fan of tight spaces. Claustrophobia the clerics called it. At the time Abigail thought him silly given that they lived in a wide open farm. Here, among the darkness and stony walls of the underground, Abigail understood what he meant more clearly.

Arthur.

Abigail could feel her heart ached terribly at the thought of her brother.

“Watch out here farm girl” Oliver’s voice called from out front.

Abigail snapped back to reality, her hand reaching out for Archibald’s shoulder as the road sloped sharply once more.

Abigail knew the other two were helping her through her first time through the tunnel and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She was used to being caught flat footed but never to this degree. Well except that one time during Winter’s Solstice. That was just awkward for everyone especially her.

Oliver was ahead, lightly humming the occasional song while calling out warnings about sudden shifts in the road. Archibald walked beside her when the path would allow, offering his hand then shoulder for her to brace herself with.

The boys were clearly no stranger to this way of traveling and while Abigail felt a little embarrassed at her tripping and confusion, she was grateful the two went out of her way to help her. Even Oliver hadn’t sent a pointed barb at her.

“I can see why it takes half day to a day.” Abigail sighed, steadying herself against Archibald “Is it always this rough?”

“Better and worse usually.” Oliver admitted, peering into the shifting shadows ahead “This just one path and since not many people go to West End, it’s usually uncared for here.”

He gestured to a illumashroom plucked from the ground and thrown to its side.

“But” he continued “The other paths are well worn, lot more people and lot more care put into maintaining the roads and the signs. More ways to get where you want too but also more roadblocks and unforeseen circumstances.”

“Mixed bag then.” Abigail huffed.

“Like life” Oliver replied.

Archibald nodded his head in agreement.

“How do you guys get used to it?”

Oliver motioned to himself “Born here.”

Archibald gestured to his sliver hued clothing.

“Right. Silly question.”

Archibald tiled his hand back and forth.

“Ha, thanks Archibald.”

He rose a thumb in response.

“Enough flirting back there.” Oliver shouted “It’s getting late.”

“Is it?”

“We’ve been working for about 6, 7 hours Archie?”

Archibald paused thoughtfully before wordlessly counting his fingers, holding up 7 after a moment.

Abigail glanced at them “Have we? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You will when we stop. Luckily there is a clearing up ahead.”

“Clearing? Like a field or?” Abigail glanced at Archibald who simply gestured forward.

“Clearing.” Abigail whispered in understanding.

Before them was a cavern, wide and spacious whose ceiling couldn’t been seen through the inky darkness. The walls were rough and jagged with the odd crack or smaller tunnel that led away from the beaten path. The faint of smell of ash filled the air as Abigail noticed the various imprints of tents and footsteps scattered across the floor, travelers long past persevered by dust.

“Rest stop” Oliver explained, putting his travel bag on the floor “There’s a couple of these caverns across the roads. Perfect to set up and keep an eye out when resting or sleeping. Usually there’s more people but like I said, no one comes to West End. Willingly at least.”

Abigail rose an eyebrow “You did though.”

If Oliver heard, he made no indication as he began removing things from his bag.

Archibald and Abigail followed suit, making themselves comfortable among the stony floor as they set up for the night.

* * *

Abigail was quick to realize what Oliver meant when he said she would notice once they stopped.

Once her little sleeping bag had been laid out and she folded up the cloak under her as a comfortable seat, she could feel the exhaustion ebb into her bones.

Abigail huffed tiredly as she took a seat “Wow, I’ve never been that winded before.”

Archibald was hard at work setting a fire pit, finding rocks around and enclosing the various logs of wood within while Oliver plucked at his lute mindlessly, sitting upon on his own pile of clothing for a seat.

“Lack of sun people say. Humans aren’t really suppose to go without it for long periods of time. Luckily a lot of food down here that helps with that.”

Abigail’s stomach rumbled hungrily at the mention of food. She briefly remembering eating snacks throughout the day but not a full meal.

Archibald fished out a piece of jerky from his pack and handed it to Abigail

Abigail smiled gratefully “Thanks.”

Archibald coughed, returning to his work as Oliver searched through his bag.

“Archie, Slimewood?”

He replied with an unhappy face.

“I picked up some Jub steak too.”

The archer nodded happily at the alternative.

“Slimewood? Jub steak?”

Oliver pulled out a carefully wrapped package, laying it to the side as he dug deeper “Food Abigail. I bought some for this road trip.”

“You bought food?? When?!” Abigail couldn’t recall seeing the bard make such a purchase.

“I snuck out after everyone fell asleep. Butcher owed me a favor so I did some midnight shopping.”

“And were you planing on sharing this information?”

“Yes” Oliver admitted “Now when it’s dinner time.”

“Surprisingly nice of you” Abigail murmured suspiciously.  
  
“Practical” Oliver corrected “We’re traveling together so the best shot to stay alive is to make sure we’re all well fed and in one peace. Especially this one.”

Oliver pointed at Archibald who beamed with pride.

“Right. Travel companions.”

“Hey you came at me with a knife.” Oliver reminded her.

“After you tried to rob me.” Abigail shot back darkly.

“Thought you were a corpse farm girl.”

Archibald looked back and forth between the two.

“Long story” Abigail offered sympathetically.

Oliver scoffed “I thought she was dead, tried to find something of worth, she came at me with a knife. Not that long of a story farm girl.”

Abigail glared openly at the bard. Oliver shrugged as Archibald finished the fire pit, flames and all.

Abigail sighed happily “Much better.”

“Oi merc, got a pan?”

Archibald nodded and pulled out an old worn frying pan. Oliver took it appreciatively and placed it upon the roaring flame, meat shortly followed after.

“Smells pretty good!”

“As opposed to?”

“I dunno. Not good? I don’t even know what this is!”

“First rule of eating food: Never asked what it’s made of.”

“I live on a farm. I’m aware of that rule.”

Archibald chuckled to himself as he eyed either tunnel entrance carefully for any sign of trouble.

The trio sat in a surprisingly peaceful silence among the crackling of the flame and sizzling of cooked meat.

“I’m surprised you know how to cook” Abigail admitted “Given that you’re a grave robber and a jerk.”

Archibald quietly nodded in agreement.

“Personality traits and old habits are not inductive of my skill set.” Oliver replied, turning the meat over.

“I don’t think I’ve seen a bard do anything besides sing and dance.

Oliver scoffed “They’re not real bards like me. I’m going to be the best and to be that, I need to be varied.”

Abigail couldn’t hide her surprise “So you’re not the best? I thought you burst into flames if you were ever honest.”

“I am honest” Oliver countered “I just decide how much honesty I need to share with people.”

Archibald snorted loudly.

“Yeah yeah” Oliver gestured threateningly with his spoon “Keep it up merc and I’ll burn your piece extra crispy and black.

Archibald rose his hand in surrender.

Abigail chuckled, smiling at her companions. She had forgotten how nice it was to be around people.

“Watch it farm girl” Oliver teased, passing her a plate filled with a well cook steak and odd side dishes “You keep smiling like that people might think we’re friends.”

“Moment of weakness. It’s been a long day.”

Oliver snickered, offering Archibald his plate “As long as we’re on the same page.”

Abigail decided to not reply.

Oliver took a smug pride at the others faces as they bit into their first taste of the sweetish salty meat.

“Not just another bard huh?”

Abigail stuck her tongue out “I’m not going to give you the satisfaction.”

Oliver turned to Archibald “How about you merc? Gonna give me some validation?”

Archibald choked, too caught off guard by the question. He gave a friendly thumbs up before trying to clear his airway.

“No greater compliment than a man choking on your food.” Oliver beamed proudly.

Abigail gently rubbed and patted his back in an attempt to help Archibald. He let out a might cough and smiled sheepishly towards Abigail in thanks.

“You don’t talk much huh?”

He shook his head.

“Not a fan?”

A nod.

“I understand.” Abigail gave a cheery smirk.

Archibald was awfully interested in his plate all of the sudden.

“So” Abigail glanced back towards Oliver “This competition? This isn’t you picking on a bunch of kids for a talent show right? You’re actually competing against real bards in a real competition.”

“Of course.” Oliver waved off her accusatory tone “I’m morally gray, not a bully.”

“You’ve been bullying me just fine.” Abigail murmured with an unhappy edge to her tone.

“It’s how I show tolerance.”

“How about you stop being a jerk and sing for us bard?”

Oliver rubbed his fingers together.

Abigail raised an eyebrow “Seriously? You’re going to charge us?”

“No point to do something for free when you can get paid for it.” Oliver gave impish grin.

Abigail frowned before an idea formed in her head “You know Archibald doesn’t think you can sing at all. He was telling me he thinks you just talk a big game but doesn’t see it.”

Archibald froze, his fork halfway between his open mouth and his plate. His eyes darted back and forth, unsure how he got pulled into this.

Oliver pursed his lips: On one hand he knew Abigail was baiting him given how much of a conversationalist Archibald had been this far. But on the other hand, he could never resist a chance to show off.

“I’m playing” Oliver stated simply as he slid his lute off his back “But because I want to. I need practice if I want to win first place.”

“Oh right sure.” Abigail nodded mockingly

Archibald was still confused.

Notes filled the still cave air. It was a soft tune, slow and peaceful reminding Abigail of a lullaby. The bard closed his eyes, swaying back and forth as his fingers strummed across the strings almost like they were made of air.

“ _For_ _the_ _one day I have long since gone_ _through my_ _past.”_ Oliver whispered, his voice gravelly and low _“Memories of_ _a place_ _that surely_ _can not_ _last. For_ _far_ _and wide I have long_ _always_ _done_ _roam, watching and seeking wh_ _ere_ _I shall call home.”_

The flourish, the rises and drops in the music filled Abigail with some nostalgia she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying: He was by no means perfect given some notes did not fit with the others and she could tell this slow more determined song was not his preferred style but even she had to admit this was nice. Surrounded by people, enjoying songs long into the night.

It was nice to be around people.

* * *

Abigail yawned tiredly as morning came. Well according to Oliver and Archibald it was morning: In the darkness of the tunnels, it was pretty much impossible to tell what time it actually was.

As they drew closer to the capital, Abigail had a better idea of what Oliver meant by better maintained: While not perfect, the path was well worn yet smooth. The slopes weren’t as drastic or without warning. Once or twice, the road branched off to some other path that shot off in some direction Abigail couldn’t hazard a guess.

“What are these all about?” Abigail motioned to yet another crack in a wall, some smaller tunnel that led off into the darkness.

Archibald guided her away from the opening as Oliver glanced backwards.

“Stay away from those.” Oliver eyed the crack cautiously “We call them sideways because who knows where you’re going to end up.”

“I don’t get it.” Abigail was unable to keep the confusion out of her tone.

“Unexplored tunnels.” Oliver clarified “Well as far as we know. No one knows where they go and they’re very dangerous. If you’re lucky, they’ll just spit you out somewhere on the main road. But no one can really be sure and it’s best not to tempt fate.”

A shiver ran down Abigail’s back as she moved closer to the middle of the road. She was already disoriented and lost on this main road to the capital. She didn’t want to know how would it feel be hopelessly lost in the dark.

Abigail nearly crashed into Oliver, took caught up in her thoughts to realize the bard had stopped dead in the road.

“Wha?!” Abigail flailed in surprise “Oliver! What are you doing?”

“Do you hear that?”

Abigail looked about, unsure what she was supposed to be hearing.

“No, I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly.”

A sense of dread began to fill Abigail, her breathing becoming labored. Now that she thought of it, this was the first moment in her journey that there was a tense thick silence. Even in the middle of nowhere, she could hear far off noises among the chilly air. Now the air was still with an overwhelming quiet surrounding them.

“Archie?” Abigail called only to find the archer’s eyes darting about, bow ready in his hands.

He pulled her closer, putting her in the middle of himself and Oliver.

“Guys?”

“Not now Abigail.”

Abigail felt the tension growing, some unseen danger that lurked close by, waiting for their chance to strike.

Abigail glanced about, desperately trying to find some sort of clue to what was going on when she spotted it: glowing silver gleams peering through the darkness of the crack.

Something scurried out quickly, it’s claws scraping the stone walls as its form was silhouetted against the dim glow of the tunnel. She tried to make out what exactly it was but its skin or shell or whatever was too dark in this light.

It was small which was a comfort to Abigail though its claws were sharp and dug easily into the floor. It was misshapen that even Abigail, whom was well versed with a variety of animals, couldn’t tell its features. The only that was noticeable besides its claws were its sliver eyes which were smooth and solid.

“What’s that?” Abigail tilted her head quizzically.

“What is…?” Oliver whirled around “ARCHIE!”

“what, wait?” but no sooner the words had left her mouth, the creature let out a horrible shriek. It thundered in her ears with such a volume that it made her dizzy and unsteady.

The creature stood on its hind legs, throat wide open and the shriek slowly growing louder and louder.

Silence came without warning but it was welcomed.

Abigail panted heavily, the ringing almost unbearable as her sight slowly focused.

There was an arrow where the creature once stood.

Abigail turned sideways to find Archibald, sweat on his brow, his breath heavy and uneven.

She let out a sigh of relief “Did I tell you how much I love you?”

Archibald gave a weak smile.

“Move!”

Archibald and Abigail stared back at Oliver who began pulling at their wrist.

“MOVE NOW!!” Oliver shouted, shoving them forward into a desperate run.

Abigail opened her mouth when she heard the sound of dozens of claws wildly scratching and scraping at anything and everything.

The creatures burst forth from the crack or at least Abigail thought they were creatures. She couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. It was a mass of constantly shifting shadows that took odd shapes. It was if the creatures couldn’t agree on what form they should take. The only thing that did not change was the dozens pairs of sliver smooth eyes, their gaze lifeless yet single minded.

Abigail struggled to break into a run. Her feet felt heavy like the floor was pulling her deeper and deeper into the ground. She could feel fear creeping into every inch of her body, threatening to send her into shock as she tried to keep her panic under control.

“I don’t want to die.” Abigail murmured fearfully as her hands grasped deliriously at the air “Not here. Not yet.Mom, dad. Please! Not here! NOT YET!”

She couldn’t hold in the scream, the panic and fear was too much. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks, the whirl of claws closing the distance inch by inch.

There was a quietness that came with the end. A strange sensation of peace, of acceptance. She felt it now amid the fear and panic. She could hear the soft sounds of trumpets in her ears, a familiar song playing in her mind. It took her a moment to recognize the fanfare of the king’s guard, a triumphant march of victory. She always felt safer whenever she heard the blaring of the horns far in the distance.

She took a deep calming breath. Her body no longer felt sluggish and disconnected as the fanfare played faintly in her head.

She could feel Archibald just behind her, the occasional notch of an arrow letting her know he was trying to push back the hoard but not finding much luck.

Abigail looked forward and was not surprised to find Oliver busy at work. The jet black lute glowed with previously unseen blue runes scrawled across its surface. His fingers were furiously strumming across his lute as if their lives depended on it.

They probably did. His song was the only thing keeping the fear at bay.

“Bards.” Abigail muttered under her breath before calling out “How much further to the gate?”

“Not close enough!” Oliver answered, his fingers never stopping “We’re going to have to lose them another way!”

“There is no other way!” Abigail struggled to keep the tears from spilling onto her face.

Oliver cocked his head forward “One but you’re not going to like it!”

“Why?”

“Remember how I told you never to go down sideways?”

Abigail nearly stopped in her tracks but Archibald sprinted past, clasping her hand tight and pulled her forward.

“Yeah we’re going sideways. Straight ahead, get up here Archie!”

Archibald glanced backwards, the massive wall of claws and sliver eyes just a few feet behind.

Oliver whistled to get his attention “We know what’s behind us, I need you to clear what’s ahead or else we’re not going to make it! Get up here merc!”

Archibald let out a shaky breath and pushed further, dragging Abigail close behind.

The trio spotted Oliver’s idea: A split in the path. One path curved to the side, the dimly lit main path that led to Haven’s Nest. The other was not so much a path as it was a void of darkness, a path that sloped downward into the unknown.

“Oliver!” Abigail cried.

“We can die now or we die later!” Oliver firmly answered “And at least later we might not die, now go!”

Abigail nearly let go of Archibald’s hand but the mercenary gave her a comforting squeeze. He turned to her and spoke wordlessly with a simple smile.

**I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.**

She took a shaky breath but nodded in understanding.

The trio threw themselves at the opening, sailing through the air for a moment before landing with a dull thud onto the stony floor. Before any of them could react, they began sliding forward, the slope pushing them further deep into the dark.

Oliver’s lute dimly lit the tunnel the little they traveled. It must’ve been a heartbeat or two when the group found themselves tumbling across the straighten floor.

“Get up!” Oliver shouted, pulling the other two to their feet “We need to get going.”

“Where!?” Abigail cried “There’s nowhere to go!”

Archibald elbowed Oliver and pointed out a strange silhouette outlined in the darkness of the cavern.

“Is that a house?” Abigail’s voice asked with disbelief “Down here? That’s creepy.”

“And probably bad news.” Oliver admitted as he pushed the two towards the strange house cloaked in shadows “but later is later! Go go go!”

The claws echoed faintly from the tunnel but the trio had already reached the pouch of the home.

It was oddly similar to Abigail’s home though in much worse shape: Faded, splintered wood with dull peeling paint. The windows were blackened out with dust and the house creaked unhappily as they climbed the porch steps. The door swung open by itself and while that gave Abigail pause, Oliver shoved them in, shutting the door behind them and locking it.

“This is a bad idea.” Abigail panted breathlessly.

Oliver wiped the sweat off his brow “Hopefully we’ll live to regret it.”

“I doubt it.” A voice called from the shadows.

Oliver and Archibald threw themselves forward, pushing Abigail behind them in a defensive formation.

The air was thick with creak, creak, creak of heavy boots walking down some unseen stairs.

A figure appeared before them. He was taller than anyone else here with an old tattered riding cloak draping his massive figure. Brown eyes peered curiously under his hood, his thick beard black and gray. His armor was dented and worn with a faded symbol of a sun across his chest.

“You do not know where you roam children.” the stranger’s voice spoke, melodic and deep.

“At least we’re alive right?” Abigail offered hopefully.

“No you were right.” Oliver eyed the stranger’s symbol distastefully “This was a terrible idea.”

Abigail leaned in, dropping her voice to a whisper “Is he bad news? A thief or murderer or something?”

“Worse.” Oliver glared openly “A paladin.”


	5. Unlikely Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One day into the Underground proper and Abigail has already been chased by strange creatures into an unexplored tunnel and a creepy house that screams trouble. Trapped within, the group runs into a paladin wandering the darken halls. Despite the stranger's calm demeaner, Oliver claims he's nothing but trouble and little does the group know how correct he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! E here hoping you are all safe and sound. Sorry for the delay. The original plan was for me to update every two week because of my various responsibilities but a lot of things ended up happening so I had to delay this chapter a bit. Also there has been a shift in my job that might affect the release date of this chapters as well so hopefully I can keep up the whole two week deadline but as a word of warning delays might happen.
> 
> Thank you for reading this project of mine. I really appreciate it and I am so glad it's doing so well. Feel free to leave kudos, comments all that jazz I love reading them. Stay safe, wear your mask, wash your hands and take care of yourself and your love ones! Have a great week! E is out!

“No by the way” Oliver narrowed his eyes at the man before the trio.

The stranger tilted his head quizzically “No?”

“No” Oliver repeated firmly “We’re not interested in your righteous cause or your god.

The stranger chuckled darkly “What righteous cause?”

“You’re a paladin in an evil creepy house in an unexplored tunnel off the beaten path.” Oliver explained “That only means one thing: Trouble. Solius I take with the whole…”

He gestured to the faded sun symbol splashed across the dented armor.

“Aye” The paladin answered with a nod “I am Fen, judgment of the sun god Solius on this mortal plane.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow sarcastically “Solius is the god of sunshine, rainbows and redemption. I wasn’t aware of he added judgment to his resume.”

“He hasn’t” Abigail mumbled.

Neither Oliver or Fen paid her any attention.

“Your mocking is common among the faithless” Fen growled softly.

Oliver gave a noncommittal shrug “If you want to believe in a higher being in exchange for some magical whatevers, that’s a you problem. I’m good with my music.”

“Bards” Fen spat out distastefully.

“Paladorks.” Oliver replied with false civility.

Abigail and Archibald watched the barbed exchange carefully, unsure what exactly was going on.

Abigail’s knowledge of paladins was sketchy at best: Like clerics, she knew their drew their magic from the deity they have chosen to follow. Good and bad gods existed in equal measure in this world and each ruling a domain such as light, dark, night, murder, redemption. Unlike the clerics, who often were healers or at the very least practitioners of powerful magics, paladins were their god’s warrior on the mortal plane, protecting their flock or routing out their enemies with religious fervor and steel.

Abigail was only familiar with Solius due to her family’s livelihood. While not particularly devoted to the sun god, her parents often left offerings in his church in the town to help ensure a good harvest for the year.

Speaking honestly, Abigail was never sure how exactly clerics and paladins drew their magic from a god or how exactly gods worked. She had heard the elders endlessly argue whether the gods were divine or simply higher beings who were beyond the comprehension of mortal beings. It was frankly above her thought process and she rather focus on questions she could answer such as what she was going to eat that day and if the bloodblooms needed more or less water.

“So.” Oliver began tiredly “How much danger are we in?”

Abigail and Archibald shared a concern glance

“I’m sorry, did you just say we’re in danger?”

“Yes” Fen answered bluntly “Much danger.”

“Much danger?” Abigail couldn’t keep stop her pitch from rising “Danger!?”

Oliver gestured to Fen “Of course we’re in danger. A paladin’s here. An _experienced_

paladin.”

“How do you know he’s…?”

The question died in her throat as she got a good look at Fen: A longsword hung sheathed at his side, his armor worn and nicked dozens of scratches and dents across the faded symbol of a sunburst. At first she thought his left arm was draped in his riding cloak, hidden out of sight but as he pushed the hood from his head and adjusted the cloak with his right hand, she realized with an icy chill that he had no left arm.

Archibald shifted uncomfortably beside her.

“I lost it in a mighty battle.” Fen answered the group’s unasked question “I had it removed when a cursed creature bit my arm.”

“Cursed creature?” Abigail thought for a moment “Like a werewolf? Wait, there’s werewolves down here? How would that even work?”

“Mystic moon energy. Let’s move along.” Oliver chimed in “What are you hunting here in the dark?”

“Wait I want to know more about the werewolves!”

“Demon” Fen stated, ignoring Abigail’s inquires.

“We’re in its prison, aren’t we?” Oliver rubbed his eyes wearily.

Abigail stopped dead in her tracks “Demon?”

Fen remained silent but nodded in conformation.

“Demon.”

“For fucks sake. Can we leave?”

“Guys, there’s a demon here?”

Fen paused thoughtfully “I do not know but I would recommend against it. The sealing power of this place is weakened. If it were to escape….”

“Yeah, yeah.” Oliver cut him off “Innocent souls consumed, bloodshed, the standard spiel.”

Fen glared openly “How carefree it must be to hold nothing sacred.”

“Not all of us wear our bleeding hearts on our sleeve.” Oliver coldly replied.

Abigail cut in between them “There’s a demon here?!”

“Yes, I thought we made it clear. Keep up farm girl.”

“How are you not panicking?!”

“Survival instinct” Oliver explained simply “You can panic when you’re not about to die.”

“Speaking of, remember not to in a moment.” Fen glanced towards a darken hallway, drawing his blade quietly.

Something changed. The air, calm and still, became tense and uneasy. Goosebumps ran down Abigail’s spine as a sense of dread filled every inch of her body.

She wasn’t the only one who felt the shift: Archibald stood closer to her, one hand his bow the other on her shoulder, his breath steady yet stiff. Oliver held his lute in a death grip, his fingers curved in anticipation and ready to pluck the strings at a moment’s notice.

“It’s coming” Oliver whispered carefully to the others, his gaze fixated on the hallway before them.

At first Abigail was unsure how the bard knew that: the house was dark and the dusty air swirling about made it hard to make out anything beside silhouettes of furniture and decor.

Then she heard it: Thud, thud, thud of uneven footsteps as the demon lumbered ever closer to the group. The scraping of wood against _something_ seemed impossibly loud in Abigail’s ears as she tried to shove down her fear from bubbling out of her throat.

“What the hell….?” she murmured as the creature shuffled uneasily into the room.

Oliver scoffed “Yes it did come from hell. Thank you farm girl.”

“Even now? Seriously Oliver?”

“It’s how I cope.”

The demon was humanoid, 7 feet tall with splotches of bruising across its deep red skin. The form was a strange mixture of heavily muscular and malnourished. It wobbled into the room, its thinly skeletal left leg being dragged along uselessly. It flexed its thick muscles threateningly as it held a massive weighed club up with little effort. The demon studied the others with sunken flaming eyes, its skin loose and pulled over the skull like an ill fitting mask. The wispy strains of reddish black hair swayed back and forth.

Abigail’s throat dried as the room became warm and stuffy almost as if this creature’s presence alone corrupted the air around them.

Abigail coughed a little, trying to clear her airway from the heat “What is that thing?!”

“No idea.” Oliver shrugged, clearing his throat as well.

“I thought you knew everything!”

“Not even close farm girl.”

“Then why do you act like it?!”

Abigail snarled but before she could strike at the bard, she felt Archibald’s hand gently squeeze her shoulder. She turned to face him and saw him breathing deep and slow.

He was right. This was not time to let her feat lash out everyone around her. She needed to stay calm if they were going to get out of this in one piece.

The demon tilted its head curiously at the group before it. It spoke deep and gravelly with a tone that was questioning but no one knew what it was asking.

“Maybe it’s asking if we come in peace?” Abigail chimed in hopefully.

“Tis a beast from hell. Do you really think it is asking for peace?” Fen scolded harshly.

Abigail’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment “I can dream alright! It’s my first time dealing a demon from the 7th pit of hell! Forgive me if I’m holding on to childish questions cause I’m trying not to freak out here! It’s how I cope!”

The demon grumbled its question again eyeing each person carefully.

“Watch for its left hook.” Fen cryptically offered.

“What?”

The demon shrieked, rattling the house violently before reaching out with its left hand. Without warning, the arm stretched forward towards the group, the skin wrinkling and pulling loose.

Abigail froze as the sharp nails grasped wildly in her direction.

Archibald moved, shoving Abigail out of the way but ran straight into the hand’s grasp. It dug its claws into his armor though luckily it hadn’t manage pierce skin.

“Archie!” Abigail cried, fumbling uselessly for her knife.

Fen and Oliver jumped into action: As the arm pulled back to drag the helpless archer closer, Fen grappled Archibald, holding on with all his strength. Oliver pluck his lute with a dramatic flourish, gold musical symbols filling the air for a moment. Abigail flinched at the clashing notes played but the demon’s reaction to the dissonance was far more explosive: Its face contorted and recoiled as if it Oliver had physically attacked it. Its body shuddered and its claws loosened their grip. Fen jabbed his blade into the demon’s grip over and over again until it released its hold on Archibald.

Demon snarled hungrily as the arm snapped back into place.

“Archie, Archie I’m sorry I…” The words died in Abigail’s throat as he gave her a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry farm girl.” Oliver shouted, pulling at her cloak to get her moving “It happens but if you’re not good at fighting…”

“Get good at getting out of the way.” Abigail whispered back as she allowed the bard to pull her to the side.

Oliver faced Abigail questioningly “Oh you know the saying? That’ll save time.”

Abigail remained silent. Arthur used to tell her that when he joined the knights.

Fen pushed forward, sword drawn with Archibald close behind.

Archibald fired an arrow, attempting to cover Fen’s approach but it bounced harmlessly off the demon’s skin.

Fen lunged forward, swinging wide and cutting a deep gash across its chest but the beast countered, aiming its club towards the paladin’s head. He ducked, tucking under the demon’s outstretched arm and backing off.

“Oi paladin! Where’s your holier than thou smiting divine power?” Oliver called from behind a chair.

Fen didn’t reply, too busy deflecting the demon’s club with the flat of his blade. He drove his blade deep into the creature’s shoulder but the demonic entity ignored it completely. It gripped him tightly by the armor and lifted off his feet. Fen tried to push the sword deeper but it wasn’t slowing the demon.

The demon bent it shoulder in an uneven angle as it raised its club just above Fen’s head. It gave toothy smile, its fangs glistening in the dark while preparing to deal the finish blow.

It staggered backwards as an arrow struck its eye. It bounced off same as before but the demon was caught unaware and reacted instinctively.

Fen took his chance. He reached into his hood and smashed a vial of clear liquid across the stunned demon’s face.

It howled in pain as steam rolled off its burning face. The demon dropped Fen as it wildly flailed about, smashing anything nearby to splinters.

It shouted in its infernal tongue before crashing into the doorway, breaking a chunk of the wall off and retreating deeper into the house.

Archibald shakily leaned against the wall to catch his breath while Oliver approached Fen, his jaw tense with anger.

“What’s the big idea?” Oliver poked the paladin’s chest “What scam are you running?”

Fen’s face twisted in anger “Scam? How dare you speak to me like that!”

“Stow it.” Oliver snarled “You are not a paladin.”

Fen rose to full height, glaring with unrestrained rage “I AM A PALADIN! THE CHOSEN OF SOLIUS!”

“Former chosen.” Oliver spat out.

The anger drained out of Fen’s eyes only to be replaced by shame.

Oliver clenched his fist “I knew it. This isn't some mission for a higher power. This is a suicide run trying to get back in your god’s good graces! He renounced you, didn’t he?”

Abigail stood rooted in place “Is that a thing?”

“Yeah. It’s a two way street. You devote your life and existence to a god and they grant you the power to do so but if they happen not to agree with _how_ you do things then bye bye divine magic. That’s why he wasn’t smiting it with holy energy.”

Fen said nothing.

“God this is why I hate paladins.” Oliver fumed “You act better than anyone but you’re as a big a sham as me!”

“I am nothing like you.”

“You lost all rights to your high horse pal. Now what’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Fen repeated in confusion.

“Yes focus.” Oliver replied “The plan to deal with the demon. I assume you have one or did you come in here expecting to kill it with your normal boring self?”

Fen scoffed “I am not completely brain dead. Of course I have a plan.”

“Which is?”

“The seal.” Fen awkwardly started “If we can strengthen the seal, we can weaken the demon enough to put it to sleep.”

Oliver rubbed his eyes “And of course you don’t know where it is.”

“It is well hidden for a reason.”

Oliver let out a tired sigh.

“We’ll help” Abigail jumped in “We can’t let that thing escape into the Underground.”

“And we don’t want to die.” Oliver chimed in.

“That too."

Archibald looked uneasy but resigned. This wasn’t what he signed up for but he really didn’t have a choice.

Fen raised an eyebrow “And that is it? You’ll do it out of the goodness of your heart, _bard_?”

“Of course not” Oliver admitted “But the sooner we get this done, the sooner I don’t have to deal with you.”

“Finally we are agreed” Fen murmured.

Abigail sighed “I wish I didn’t have to deal with Oliver anymore.”

Oliver clapped his hand together, completely ignoring Abigail “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with. How many vials of holy water do you have left?”

Fen blinked in surprise “Three but how did you…?”

“Don’t bother.” Abigail mouthed.

“Alright. Give them to Archie. He can dip his arrows in them.”   
  
Fen rolled his eyes sarcastically “And what will I use _oh great amazing_ leader? My sword is not enough to slay the beast and I need time to apply the water as well.”

Oliver stepped closer, staring eye to eye with the paladin as he pushed his lute into his hands “If you lose this, I will kill you.”

“And what am I suppose to do with this? Play a song about friendship and love? Overcharge for a children’s rhythm?” Fen mocked.

“No you idiot.” Oliver pulled away “You beat him back to hell with it.”

Fen stared at him utterly lost.

Oliver knocked on the surface of the lute “It’s magic.”

Fen couldn’t contain his surprise despite his loathing of the bard

“Your lute is magic?”

Oliver rolled his eyes “Yes. It’s not a sword or a spear but at least you’ll be able to hurt him some. At least enough for me and farm girl to find the seal.”

“Me and who now?” Abigail shook her head “Wait, your lute is magic? Why is that important?”

“Demons are naturally resistant to mortal weapons” Fen explained as he held the lute aloft, getting a feel for its weight “It would be like attacking them with a butter knife, Painful but ultimately an empty gesture. But magic, whether spells or items imbued, can bypass their nature. Holy magic would be ideal hence the holy water.”

“But we work with what we got.” Oliver finished “And can you fight farm girl?”

Abigail shifted her foot shamefully.

Oliver snapped his finger “No. Don’t do that. Nothing wrong with not knowing how to fight. I don’t.”

“But you know magic!” Abigail argued “That’s more than me.”

“Look I don’t like you.” Oliver admitted “But beating yourself up isn’t going to save us. Yes I know magic but I’m not going to be tossing fire or lightning out of my fingertips. That’s not how my magic works. Finding that seal is just as important as Archibald’s and Fen’s job.”

Abigail glanced towards Archibald. His face was grim but determined.

“What’s your job Archie?” Abigail asked gently, unable to keep the worry out of her voice.

Archibald punched a fist into his hand.

“You’re planning on fighting? That _thing_?”

Archibald nodded firmly.

“Archie, you can’t be serious! What if it hurts you? I promised Cecilia I’d keep you safe! Archie…”

Abigail stopped as the archer wrapped his arms tightly around her. It was warm and gentle. Tears formed in her eyes. It felt nice to be hugged again. She hadn’t been hugged in such a long time she forgot how calming it was.

He pulled away, giving her a soft smile.

Abigail still wasn’t happy with the situation but there was little choice left.

“Alright.” Oliver spoke with an edge of finality “While you two keep the demonic asshole distracted, me and farm girl will find the seal and try to strengthen it.”

“Farm girl and I” Abigail corrected.

“Seriously?”

“No, I wanted to mess with you. It’s how I cope.”

Oliver glared “We need to move fast. Once the seal is strengthen we’ll need to make a break for the exit as soon as possible because I am not dealing this place longer than I have to.”

“Do you even know how to strengthen ancient seals?” Abigail asked

“No idea but I’m a quick study.” Oliver admitted.

Abigail glanced out the grime covered windows “That’s not very comforting. And what if those shadowy creatures are out there still?”

“That’s a for later problem. Let’s focus on one life or death situation at a time.”

“Fun” Abigail replied glumly “I’m really enjoying my time in the underground guys.”

“That’s the spirit farm girl!

“I hate you so much right now.”


	6. Hellish Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now trapped in prison for a demonic hellspawn, Abigail and co. race to find the seal that will weaken the demon and prevent its a escape before it grows too powerful to stop. As Abigail and Oliver search for the seal, it is up to the forsaken paladin Fen and Archibald to distract the demon long enough for everyone to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! E here after a pretty long month. Sorry it's been a rough one and I've barely had time to actually write the next part down but it is here, it is ready and I hope you all enjoy it! I am very pleasantly surprised how well this original work is doing and I appreciate everyone who reads this story or shares with your friends. Thank you so much and I hope you keep enjoying it. Stay safe, wash your hands, wear you mask and take care of each other. E out have a great week!

“You’re terrible.”

“And?”

Abigail frowned, unsure how to respond to the simple matter of fact tone of that answer.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She asked curiously.

“Why should it?” Oliver eyed her carefully.

“It might affect my opinion of you.”

“So?” Oliver began plucking books off their shelves and tossing them to the floor haphazardly “I don’t really care about your opinion.”

Abigail pursed her lips unhappily “You’re just the worst.”

Oliver kicked over a chair “Maybe but I’m exactly who I said I am. I’m not pretending and putting lives in danger.”

Abigail said nothing, opting to check under a rug for any sign of the seal.

“Besides what do you care?” Oliver shot back “It’s not like we’re not friends.”

“I’m trying to be polite.” Abigail mumbled softly under her breath.

“Don’t.” Oliver said simply “Speak your mind. You might not get a chance later.”

Abigail bit her lips, unsure if this was a trap or some other angle the bard had planned.

Oliver leaned against the wall, arms crossed and eyes focused on Abigail.

Abigail sighed and rose to her feet, brushing away the dust from her hands and pants “I think you are a jerk who has never learned manners ever. I think you get your kicks from pissing off people and making them feel miserable. I can’t get a bead on you and it’s frustrating! Every time I think you might not be that bad, you go and kick a paladin when they’re down! And now I’m going to die with you being an ass.”

“All better?”

“Yeah actually.” Abigail admitted, surprised how much anger and frustration she been holding in. Three days and she hadn’t really realized how much was eating at her.

“Good.” Oliver pushed off the wall, his eyes darting around for any sign of a hiding place “Let’s get a move on.”

“That’s it?” Abigail tilted her head “You’re not gonna say what you hate about me? How much of a goody two shoes I am or that I’m annoying?”

“Nope”

And like that Oliver disappeared deeper into the house, not another word escaping his lips.

* * *

The creaking of the house did not help Archibald’s nerves as he and Fen moved silently through the unhallowed halls of the prison.

Archibald’s six months with the Swift Slivers brought him vital battlefield experience he never got as a recruit on the surface but nothing prepared him for this nightmarish situation: Hunting a demonic being from another plane alongside a forsaken paladin with the only goal being stalling long enough for Abigail and Oliver to find a well hidden seal and figuring out how to restrengthen it without any prior experience or knowledge. He didn’t have his family of warriors, clerics and Cecilia his basically sister. He was fumbling in the dark surrounded by strangers whose shared goal was trying not to die.

“Does your bard always make friends this way? Insults and disrespect?” Fen asked bitterly, lute locked in a death grip.

Archibald sighed. Fen had been poking and prodding about Oliver since they parted ways and always with a harsh tone.

Archibald wasn’t sure what to make of Oliver and while he only known him for a day, there was something about the bard that brought him an odd comfort. He was sharp and not just with his tongue. His quick decisive thinking had saved their lives and his firmness reminded him of Borrick. He saw through Fen’s deceit and within moments already figured out the severity of the situation and knew the paladin must’ve arrived with some sort of plan. He subtly pushed everyone into the roles he knew they would be best at: Him and Abigail the noncombatants searching for the seal and the fighters keeping the hellspawn occupied.

Archibald wasn’t sure if he liked Oliver but he knew as long as their goal aligned, he could trust him. Still wouldn’t pay to see him sing though. Too pitchy for his taste.

Out of all the terrain the archer found himself in his six months in the underground, this had been so far the worst. Nothing about this house made any sense: Halls seemed to stretch into impossible lengths, doors tilted and opened at odd angles with rooms changing each time he took his eyes off them. Fen told him the demon would regain more control of the house the more the seal weakened and was no doubt alternating any and everything it could to disorient and distract them. The good news that Oliver and Abigail should be free of such issues as the demon was more concerned with those hunting it.

“On guard” Fen firmly ordered as the pair stepped into a large dining room that no way should’ve fit inside this tiny house.

The room would’ve been spacious to move about if not for the long dinner table centered in the middle. Rusted cups and plates laid rotten and decayed across its surface as the dust swirled about in the air.

Archibald held his bow in one hand with an arrow at the ready resting between his fingers. The holy water vial was safely tucked away in his cloak pocket. He already dipped the arrow within the blessed liquid but he’d doubt a single arrow would slow the demon for long.

“Let us pray your bard is good as he claims he is.” Fen narrowed his eyes, searching through the dark for their prey.

Archibald could feel his skin shiver as the air turned hot and stuffy, a low growl faintly echoed from the shadows.

The beast asked something once more in its infernal tongue but Archibald had never been good at other languages aside common. Borrick taught him dwarvish curse words he’d never use though he desperately wished he could now.

“Steel yourself” Fen murmured unhelpfully

‘No shit’ Archibald thought to himself, notching the arrow in his bow.

* * *

“So there’s nothing you believe in?”

Oliver sighed, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice as he pushed a chair onto the floor. The search was going poorly and little time remained.

Abigail rolled her eyes “I take that as no.”

“I didn’t say that, I’m just annoyed.”

“Nothing new then.”

“Well more so.”

“Just answer the question bard. I’m trying not to panic.”

Oliver paused thoughtfully, pursing his lip in concentration before answering “I’m really big in The Choir.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow “A choir? Isn’t that a little too tight knit for such a…. _solo_ act?”

Oliver shrugged “Sometimes you need an aria and sometimes you need the marching band.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

“Yeah that’s par for the course.” Oliver sighed tiredly “We’re getting nowhere.”

“We need to think like the people who made this place.”

“No duh” Oliver scoffed “Okay. This is a prison for a demonic hellspawn.”

“Right.”

“So.” Oliver began to pace back and forth, the creaking of the wood thundering in the silence of the house “It would have to be hidden so the demon didn’t claw at it to break free.”

“Of course.”

“But they couldn’t just let it roam around here unchecked.” Oliver continued “they must’ve intended to come back periodically to check on the prison. Doesn’t matter that they suck at their jobs and forgot!” he threw his hand up in exasperation “Whatever. They needed it somewhere they could access it quick and easy.”

“I know you’re not actually listening to me but I feel uncomfortable just standing here.”

Oliver paused, Abigail could practically see his brain whirling and steaming as he tried to will whatever he was putting together into existence.

And into existence it came when Oliver let out longest unhappy groan Abigail ever heard.

“FUUUUUUU...”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“...UUUUUUU...”

“Okay you can stop now, we don’t have forever. We don’t actually know how much time we have so be dramatic later.”

“...UUUUUUCK. It’s in the front.”

“What?! SERIOUSLY!?”

“Yes!” Oliver grunted before bolting down the hall “It makes the most sense!”

“Hey wait up!”

“Like you said no time!”

* * *

“On your left!” Fen warned but Archibald already ducked under the wide swing of the demon, darting forward underneath its arm to clear some space for his shot on its backside.

The demon was prepared for this though: its arm elongated then bent itself backwards, twisting inhumanly with a sickening crunch of bones as it began to reach for Archibald.

‘Are you kidding?!’ he thought to himself as he dove sideways. He slid across the wide end of the table, knocking the various decayed silverware and plates to the floor as the arm snaked after him in pursuit. He braced himself against the wood and jabbed the holy water tipped arrow in his hand wildly.

The demon grimaced as the hand reeled back, smoke and the hiss of burning infernal flesh filling the room. Archibald scrambled backwards, allowing himself to hit the aged floor with a creaky thud.

“Regain your bearings!” Fen shouted from somewhere “I’ll distract the beast!”

Fen bull rushed the hellspawn and brought down his full weight into his swing. The demon’s face curled into something that reassembled pained surprise as Oliver’s lute crashed into its shoulder, the unmistakable sound of cracking bone filling Archibald’s ears. The demon stumbled back in a moment seemingly confused. Fen pressed the attack, chasing after his hated foe with reckless fury.

Archibald wished Fen focused more on fighting than trying to direct the archer. Any useful information he attempted to convey was already too late and pointless by the time he said it. It was clear he was not used to working in a team: In the Swift Slivers, Borrick more or less taught them to act with autonomy and to trust your fellow mercs. Fighters fought and kept the enemy distracted, archers aimed for the most dangerous foe and Cecilia blasted everything with arcane magic.

Archibald scampered to his feet, his eyes trying to readjust the chaotic back and forth of the battle: Fen fought as furiously as his opponent, trading vicious blows with the demon but making it almost impossible for Archibald to get a clear shot. The demon’s reddish skin contrast with the darkness somehow made it difficult to determine where the wall began and the creature ended. The stuffy air its mere presence created dried his eyes and impaired his vision ontop of everything else.

He gritted his teeth and backed away, arrow loose in his hand as he searched for the opening he needed.

* * *

Fen could feel his body surge with the battle fury he hadn’t felt in such a long time. He felt like he had a purpose again, a calling and it was intoxicating.

Normally this infernal beast of hell would be no problem for a warrior of his caliber but at this moment he was no holy chosen of a higher being, he was merely a man and this hellspawn was not of this world.

The bard had not lied about his instrument. It bypassed the beast’s resistance to mortal weapons, bruising and batter more purplish splotches across its body as Fen laid into it.

Fen smashed the lute into its arm again, the crunch of bones heavenly to his ears. The demon snarled, swiping with its free hand but Fen brought his weapon up, the claws scraping harmlessly across the magical instruments surface. Fen countered driving the lute deep into the stomach of the demon. He winced as his wrist ached at the solid mass of muscles the lute ran into. He had forgotten this was not a sword but a mere bard’s instrument.

* * *

The demon took advantage of this momentary lapse: It lashed out, trying to catch Fen’s throat. The paladin stumbled to the side. He flinched as the demonic claws raked against his aged armor, the sound of metal scraping against metal overwhelming him for a moment. He realized his mistake too late as he caught sight of the elongated arm snaked above him as it raced forward towards his head.

The demon reeled back in pain, its screams roaring like thunder across the house. The elongated arm retracted, its skin blackened and shriveled as the arrow embedded within blazed with holy light for a moment.

It shot a dirty look towards the archer whom was already prepping another sanctified payload. It growled angrily as it broke the shaft of the now normal arrow. Its skin bubbled and popped, dislodging the arrowhead from within as the demon focused on the archer.

The elongated arm swelled, the skin and muscle mass returning to normal as it launched towards the irritation with deadly intent. The archer had barely managed to dip the next arrow into the cursed water when he dove out of the way, the elongated arm barely missing the prey’s head as it dug deep into the walls.

The paladin yelled, throwing himself back into the fray with religious fever but it was not concerned. The seal weakened and each passing moment it regained more of its unholy strength. The blows from whatever the warrior was hitting it with hurt but sooner or later these human pests would be spent and all demons were well familiar with pain. It waited this long. A few moments more mattered not.

* * *

Abigail could see the panic in Oliver’s eyes as he rushed back and forth, tearing the room apart in a desperate search for the seal.

Not that Abigail was much better: she was furiously throwing everything just as manically as Oliver.

They knew every second wasted was a second too long and there was still the task of actually figuring out how to strengthen the seal once more.

“THIS IS WHY I HATE CLERICS AND PALADIN!” Oliver shouted in frustration “WHY CAN’T THEY MAKE THIS EASY!? WHAT KIND OF GROUP FORGETS ABOUT A FUCKING DEMON ON A RANDOM SIDE PATH?! It’s kinda a big deal guys!”

Abigail said nothing, opting find the seal instead.

“We’re running out of time!” Abigail cried.

“No shit! Keep looking! It has to be something they could spot easily and get to!”

Abigail was about to angrily retort that she knew when she spotted something: A sunburst, same as the one on Fen’s armor, embedded in the wall near the front door.

“Oliver!” Abigail gestured hurriedly.

Luckily the bard was quick on the uptake. He made a mad dash for the symbol, eyes glowing with the soft golden light from before. Small fancy looking words surrounded the sunburst but Abigail couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

“It’s celestial.” He murmured more to himself than anything else “Of course it’s the language of the gods.”

“How are you doing that?” Abigail asked curiously as a way to distract herself “I know it’s a spell but…”

“Comprehend languages” Oliver answered honestly “Super basic spell. Normally I’d just cast it as a ritual to save energy but we don’t have ten minutes.”

“What’s it say?”

“The protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain.”

“That’s...oddly ominous. There’s nothing else?”

Oliver shook his head “And nothing’s scratched out. This is the seal they used but I’m not sure I’m getting what I’m supposed to do! This is oddly dark for the God of Redemption.”

Abigail paused for a moment, trying to remember the few sayings her family taught of the Solius. The protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain? That didn’t sound right.

“Wait” a thought came to her “Does the spell perfectly translate words? I don’t know about spells but if it’s super basic….”

“No!” Oliver cheered “It translates the most direct version of the words. So it’s not saying the protection of heaven is granted by the sacrifice of pain. It’s saying something similar.

“The path to redemption” Abigail quoted “is made by self sacrifice. That’s the closest quote I can think of in Common.”

“Give me your dagger.”

Abigail was unsure what Oliver had planned but did what the bard asked of.

Oliver took carefully and without a moment of hesitation, jabbed it directly into his palm.

“Oliver!”

But he didn’t responded. Instead he placed his bloody palm in the middle of the seal. The celestial words glowed with a soft gentle light as the blood slowly formed a circle of around the heavenly quote. The blood turned from a dark red to a pure white and the house hummed with a silent energy.

The sounds of battle, formerly unheard, now boomed from the next room. Grunts of effort and the thrashing of broken furniture echoing loudly down the hallway.

Oliver stood up “We need to go.”

“Oliver, your hand.”

“After” Oliver said with a hint of finality “When we’re all safe. Now let’s go get our solider boy. And the paladin I guess.”

The two broke into a sprint, resisting the syrupy urge to rest ebbed at their weary bodies.

“How did you know that would work? Why didn’t you tell me?” Abigail asked, trying to stay focus.

Oliver shrugged “Never ask someone else for something you won’t do. It needed to be done. If I asked you, I needed to convince you and it was going to be painful. Besides it’s about self sacrifice. It had to be willing. No hesitation knowing the freaking religion.”

Abigail said nothing.

With victory and safety filling their resolve, the two made their way into the dining room, Archibald letting loose an arrow towards some unseen threat.

Abigail sighed in relief as Oliver moved to call to the mercenary.

Their faces fell to horror as the demons elongated arm dug deeply into Archibald’s stomach, lifting him off his feet in some sickening display of victory.

“ARCHIE!”


End file.
